Second Story Snow

From the second story of our one hundred eleven year-old house, the falling snow looks especially beautiful.  It's just as I imagined it would be.  For some reason, I was excited to see this year's first snowflakes from a different vantage point than usual.  Most times, it seems, the first snow occurs either overnight while I'm sleeping, or in the car driving home from somewhere.  Now and then, it happens right before my eyes as I'm looking out of a window from the kitchen or living room, but it's been decades since I've lived in a two story house, so I have no recollection of winter's first flurries being seen from upstairs.  Up here, the few remaining leaves, on their snow-soaked branches, add a second rhythm to the dance of wind blown snow.  Instead of being grounded with each flake's final destination, from this upstairs bedroom, I'm part of the journey.  No two snowflakes are the same, neither is their fall.  Swirling, blowing, dropping heavily or barely at all, the silent song of snow from my new view fills me with peace.  Downstairs from my front door, rather than appreciating the beauty, annoyance creeps into my thoughts.  I do not like driving on snow-covered roads.  The constant need to shovel the driveway and sidewalks also makes the white stuff less appealing.  For the next four months, getting ready to leave the house will be a routine of drudgery; does anyone enjoy having to don the boots, coat, scarf, and gloves?  Maybe, but I don't.  So, before the negative side of the "s" word overtakes the blessings of living in a state where we can experience the beauty of freshly fallen snow, I'm going back to my upstairs window to remember how this post started. 

There's no match up for this photo with my post today.  It's called, "Sea Glass Fish", and it's the second-to-last one I have.  Tomorrow will be my last picture and post until I can start photographing again.